


on a balanced blade

by jemejem



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, Bodyguard!Andrew, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Neighbour AU, Victim!Kevin, assassin!Neil, i treat kevin poorly im sorry kevin i love you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:20:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21979480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemejem/pseuds/jemejem
Summary: Andrew's full-time job of looking after Kevin Day from elements of his vindictive past turns everything into a red flag. It just so happens that the guy in the flat next door is cute,but suspicious.
Relationships: Kevin Day/Thea Muldani, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 10
Kudos: 290





	1. sinister hellos

Neil eyed the gun with mild distaste. He knew Ichirou liked the finality of the gun, the fear it inspired in one’s eyes, but Neil just thought it was messy. 

Efficient, sure, but loud. And cumbersome. And _so_ obvious you’re holding a gun. 

He had knives instead. 

_Like father like son,_ his mother said scathingly. She was long gone, having taken his father right down to hell with her, but that left Neil with a criminal empire and his father’s shoes to fill. 

“Get rid of Kevin Day.” Ichirou had said, lounging in front of a fire. Neil had been seated next to him, taut and rigid, like he always was around Ichirou.

Neil wasn’t insane enough to ask why, but Ichirou soldiered on anyway. 

“My father wanted him as an asset but I see him as a loose end. I had to get rid of Riko because of that man and my brother’s jealous tendencies: He knows too much.”

Neil remembered that. He’d handed Ichirou the gun. 

“He’ll be dead within a month.” Neil promised, trying to not let his voice betray how husk-like he felt. 

*

The first problem he encountered was: Kevin Day was loved publicly, and for good reason. 

Whatever. Neil would poison him and he’d be dead before the weekend arrived, with slow-acting Ricin to put distance between Neil and Kevin’s soon-to-be-corpse. 

That would be, if Neil could even get _remotely_ close to Kevin. 

But he couldn’t. 

He’d commandeered the neighbouring flat to Kevin’s, among the gorgeously glittering glass scapes of New York City. He lived here, too, but it was never in the metropolitan area. He lived on Ichirou’s estate with was further north, or spent time in his Baltimore jurisdiction. 

Becoming Kevin’s new neighbour was relatively simple: He’d simply sent the old woman an invitation to an eternal retreat up in Canada, after looking at her search history (he never wanted to look at an elderly woman’s search history again). She packed up her bags, and Neil slipped in easily, paying the first three months of rent up-front and bypassing the security checks for such a prestigious living space with his new alias: Neil Josten. 

He liked the name Neil. Sue him. It was more comfortable to wear than Nathaniel.

It was upon moving into the apartment that he realised: Kevin Day was _never_ alone. He was with his fianceé, Thea Muldani, who looked as equally adept in militant training as she was in Exy. He was surrounded by his team or the press. 

Or, as Neil reluctantly discovered, he was being watched by Andrew Minyard’s careful eye. 

A quick search on Minyard revealed many things. He’d been a Doe, he’d been to juvie, he’d been involved in multiple cases on child sexual assault as a witness. This wasn’t public information: This was just Neil’s awfully good technological ministrations. 

He also had a degree in criminology from Palmetto, which was where Neil assumed he and Kevin grew close enough that Kevin would trust his protection to Andrew. 

Context was great and all, but Neil couldn’t figure out a way around Minyard for the life of him. Sometimes, when they went out clubbing to a downtown establishment called _Eden’s_ , he would disappear for ten minutes. It was an impossible window, seeing as Kevin was never alone. 

Neil decided the only solution was to grow close enough to Andrew that he could gain the man’s trust and slip around him. His habits were routine, and he took his smoke breaks on the balcony that aligned with Neil’s. 

So every morning, Neil would be leaning on the railing with a cup of coffee and a cigarette. Every morning, Minyard would slid open the door, and step out. He usually wouldn’t even look in Neil’s direction. No cordial _good morning,_ not even a nod. 

Neil would have to catch the man’s interest. 

He’d been lucky in that his father had kept his scar-making to Neil’s torso. If Neil’d face had been disfigured, he’d be too noticeable as an assassin. He had recognisable features as it was: His red hair and blue eyes were recognisable as it was. 

So he wore an over-sized t-shirt that slipped off his shoulder and showed the worst of his scarring: a puckered bullet wound with an arc of a knife-blade through it for good measure, and the imprint of a clothes iron on his shoulder. Both were bright red against his skin and impossible to miss. 

A phone was jammed between his shoulder and his chin as he took a drag from his cigarette, hearing the door slide open. 

“…No, don’t be fucking stupid. No one can know about this. Can you imagine how much scrutiny I’d be under if they found out who it was? They wouldn’t be able to bring me down but I’d have a hell of a lot of work to do to avoid that. No, I have to go. Don’t fuck up whilst I’m gone.”

He threw his phone onto the ottoman and let out an aggravated huff, stamping out his cigarette on the railing. He shook his pack and found only a lighter, throwing the empty cartridge over the balcony with faux-frustration. 

“Quit being dramatic.” Came a voice to his right. 

Neil glanced to where Minyard was standing at the near-edge of the balcony, offering his pack. The two balconies were close enough that Neil could reach out, remaining hesitant, to take one. 

He lit it and brought it to his jaw, as was habit. “Thank you.”

“You’re wasting the nicotine.” The man insisted, with a detached gaze at Neil’s shoulder. 

Neil rose an eyebrow, pulling the shirt’s neckline up and over his scars to cover them once more. The man let his gaze flit from the shoulder to Neil’s face. “I’m more of a passive smoker.”

“Pathetic.” Minyard muttered. “You owe me a whole pack.”

Neil grinned. “Seems like a bit of a steep price.” 

“Interest rates are a killer.” He mulled. “I’m expecting it tomorrow morning, or I’ll hike the debt up to two packs.”

“Seems reasonable.” Neil let the smoke curl over his tongue before breathing it out through his nose. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll finish that if you won’t.” Andrew gestured to the coffee in Neil’s other hand. 

“Black and bitter? Not many people have my taste.”

The man made a scathing noise. “You’re a detriment to the human race.”

Neil put the cigarette between his lips and gave Minyard a two-finger salute. “See you tomorrow.”

Minyard hummed. 

Neil slid the balcony door shut behind him and grinned to himself. This would be fucking _easy._

*

Andrew didn’t know who Kevin’s (and by proxy, his) new neighbour was, but he was intrigued. By the sounds of the phone-call, he didn’t seem so noble, and neither did the curl to his grin. He owed Andrew for the cigarette which meant he’d see him again, and would be able to assess him once more. 

Kevin had slept like a black-out drunk after getting home from his away game, almost collapsing onto the couch. He hadn’t actually gotten black-out drunk for years, but sometimes Andrew wondered how someone acted like such a hangover without a single drop of alcohol in their system. 

He’d woken at six, as he usually did, feeling more than a little sleep-deprived. After a light workout on the rowing machine and breakfast in front of the TV, he took his coffee outside. 

There he was again. Andrew would be lying if he said the man wasn’t absolutely blessed in the appearance department, but it’d be entirely inappropriate to get with someone he’d have to see regularly after the fact. 

The man smiled from behind his mug, wearing a tight wife-beater and sweatpants that hung deliciously low on his hips with a dressing gown thrown over the top. No scars were on show, barring the slight raised bump across his hip that the tightness of his shirt revealed. 

“Here,” He said, throwing the pack at Andrew despite being probably 15 storeys above the ground. “I took one. Cash exchange percentage.”

Andrew scoffed. 

“I’m Neil, by the way.” He offered. “Neil Josten.”

“Andrew Minyard.”

“Thought so.” The man sipped on his coffee. Neil Josten. An ordinary name for such an eccentric person. “Didn’t want seem like a creep and start gushing about Day’s stats when we hadn’t even introduced ourselves yet.”

“Don’t you dare.” Andrew grunted. “I hear enough from the man himself.”

Neil laugh was a singular huff, twisting his face into something more gleeful. He leaned his elbow on the railing, facing Andrew with his head in his palm. “You’re not an Exy fan?”

“Over-exposed, you could say.” Andrew wanted to figure out Neil’s intentions. Not many continued to talk to Andrew, not when his resting gaze was somewhat murderous. What had Nicky once said? Bored murderer. Andrew would kill you and probably yawn whilst doing so.

“I gave up on pursuing it a while ago for more…” He cocked his head to the other side. “Lucrative occupations. But it’s still good to see a game every now and then. What are you, his boyfriend?”

Now _that_ was an obvious question. “Bodyguard. Fucker seems to attract just as much bad attention as he does good attention. I’d rather throw myself off this balcony than date that mess of a human being.” 

Neil laughed again. He didn’t have a coffee or a cigarette: He’d come purely for conversation. 

_Interesting,_ Andrew mused. 

*

Neil was getting bored, and the time constraint he’d set himself was coming to an end. He’d been living next to Kevin and Andrew for three weeks now, and Ichirou would be expecting some form of results in a few days’ time. 

Neil had met with Andrew for evening smoke breaks rather frequently, though mornings had become staple. Tonight Neil had offered a cigarette, self-rolled with a relaxant mixed into it so that he’d sleep heavily and let Neil do his snooping. 

When midnight had passed, Neil pulled his hood up and his scarf over his nose, swinging from his balcony onto Andrew’s. With a soft _snick!_ the lock came clean under the ministrations of his picks and he slipped inside. 

He thought the place would be like Neil’s: Neither Kevin nor Andrew really seemed sentimental, or materialistic. 

Neil was horribly wrong. There was an old couch that looked like they’d hauled it from their college years all the way through to now. A knitted blanket throw was across the back cushions, facing the television. A gas fire-place had various photos on the mantelpiece, including Kevin proposing to Thea, Kevin and an older man who had to be his father and someone who would have looked like Andrew if it weren’t for the quiet smile and the fact that he was hugging a heavily pregnant woman. Neil realised Andrew had a twin: Another photo of him showed Andrew, his brother, and a taller man with a darker complexion and a wide grin to contrast the twin’s blank faces sat toward the edge of the photo collection. 

It was odd, seeing how one’s life could expand to so many others. There was an odd sensation at the pit of Neil’s stomach: He grit his teeth and continued to the bedrooms. 

One was locked, the other wasn’t: Neil was right in assuming Kevin’s was the unlocked door and walked into his room. 

He was asleep, sprawled on his bed with his sheets wrapped around his waist. His fianceé was lying next to him, curled into his side with only a bra on. Neil wasn’t fazed: He’d killed people in far less favourable conditions, like that corrupt debt tycoon who’d hired Neil as a prostitute and welcomed him in only a leather harness. And when Neil said only, he meant _only._

Neil looked around the room. It was small, relatively neat, with large windows and an ensuite bathroom. He could stage an overdose: Kevin did have an alcohol problem in college. It seemed like the only viable option, seeing as Kevin was a world-class athlete with no recorded cardiovascular problems, no other drug abuses or suicidal tendencies. 

Neil sighed. He wished Ichirou would give him simpler jobs sometimes. He supposed that was his designed purpose: What was the point of sending out your incredibly precise and professional assassin to knock heads when their talents were best sharpened by intricate puzzles, forcing them to be as elusive as shadows in a crowd?

Neil brushed his fingers along the dresser, ignoring the photo hung on the wall of Kevin and Thea, not smiling, but completely vulnerable and open when looking into one another’s eyes. 

Neil wouldn’t lie and tell someone this job wasn’t isolating. He just didn’t have a choice. 

_I don’t have a choice,_ He repeated to himself. _I don’t have a choice._

A shift on the mattress caught his attention. He glanced over: Thea was blinking up at him, rubbing one eye. 

“Andrew?” She muttered. “Is that you?”

Neil said nothing, slipping out of the room and out onto the balcony once more, retreated back into his apartment. 

He’d have to ask Ichirou for more time. He needed a better plan. 

*

Andrew seemed irritated the next morning when they met up again for a smoke and lazy conversation. 

“Are you alright?” Neil asked. 

Andrew sent Neil a scathing look and said nothing. He went through his smoke too fast and drained the coffee: Neil handed him another cigarette, free of relaxant this time. “Did you see anything of interest last night?”

“Not that I can recall.” Neil leaned a little closer. “Have you checked cameras?”

“Nothing.” He said sourly. “Kevin’s infantile lover-girl swore she saw me in their room last night, but I was dead asleep all night. If anyone had been walking around the apartment I would have woken up.”

“Interesting.” Neil said, hiding his smile behind his mug. “I’ll let you know if I ever notice something out of the ordinary.” 

Andrew nodded. 

The rest of their routine meeting passed in silence. 

*


	2. friendly goodbyes

Neil slid into the booth opposite a nondescript man reading the newspaper in his business suit, briefcase by his feet. That briefcase would hold only a gun and the list of Neil’s wrongdoings. He folded the newspaper down in favour of looking to Neil with a blank expression.

Ichirou was not pleased. And it did not do well to displease a Moriyama.

“Kevin Day is alive.”

“Yes.” Neil agreed.

“My father is dying.” Ichirou hissed. “The title of Lord will be passed down to me in a matter of months. I cannot risk such a liability, Nathaniel.”

Neil winced. “It is proving more difficult than anticipated. He has surrounded himself with vigilant protection at all times. I need more time.”

“Do not forget your place, Wesninski.” Ichirou snapped. “Get out of my sight.”

Neil didn’t need to be told twice and did just that.

He felt as though he was holding his breath all the way until he’d arrived back at his apartment. His hands fumbled for the keys, teeth grinding as he tried to unlock his door.

“Josten,” Came a familiar voice. Neil glanced over his shoulder. Andrew had a slight furrow between his brow, dressed casually with black frames balanced on his nose. “Are you alright?” Neil didn’t know Minyard wore glasses.

_Concern._

“Quite fine.” Neil answered, shoving his key into the lock. “Just regretting every decision I’ve ever made that landed me in the position I’m in today.”

“Sounds fine.” Andrew answered.

Neil just shook his head, opening the door.

“Josten -” Minyard hesitated. Neil looked back at him: He scowled. “For fuck’s sake. Just come in.”

That was how Neil found himself sitting on Andrew’s couch, the knitting throw over his knees with a cup of herbal tea.

“You didn’t strike me as a tea drinker.” Neil offered, as Andrew sat down on a beanbag. They were all adults here.

“Kevin gets stressed.” He muttered, sipping on his own mug. Steam rose and fogged his glasses.

“I’ve never seen you wear frames before.” Neil noted. “Do you wear contacts usually?”

“I need them to see, Josten, so yes. It doesn’t bode well for a bodyguard to have a physical ailment that can be exploited.”

 _No,_ thought Neil, plans ticking over in his mind. _It doesn’t._

“Are you going to keep looking at me like I’m some alien, or are you going to explain why you’re on the verge of a panic attack?”

Neil blinked. “What? No, I’m fine.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure you know what that means.”

“Just some altercations at -” Neil smiled hesitantly. “At work.”

Andrew settled further into his beanbag, watching Neil over the rim of his glasses. Why did Neil feel like Andrew could see right through him? Why did he feel so vulnerable? There was no way this man could know anything about who he truly was, not when he was so careful. 

Neil should get rid of him too. He was probably just as much of a liability to Ichirou’s position as Kevin was: The two had been friends since college, since Kevin had run from Riko in the first place. 

Neil had to get rid of Andrew. He had to. _I don’t have a choice. I don’t have a choice._

The mug clattered onto the floor, hot tea seeping into his shoes and the handle shattering upon impact. 

“I -” Neil leapt to his feet, horrified at his loss of composure. Neil had killed before. What was another man and his bodyguard? What had changed? “I’m sorry, I -” 

Andrew wasn’t pleased. “Relax. Go home and fucking - take a bath, or something. You need to chill out.” 

Neil nodded weakly, wrapping his arms around his waist and rushing for the door. He couldn’t look back at the other man. It was the understanding that he offered in the corner of his eye. He wasn’t disgusted by Neil’s scars. He wasn’t put-off by Neil’s seemingly unfavourable job. He kept coming onto the balcony, time and time again, sharing quiet moments alongside Neil and answering Neil’s questions whilst offering his own questions in return. 

Neil had posed as someone else to grow intimate enough with someone’s situation to kill them cleanly plenty of times. He’d just never gotten so…

_Attached._

He slammed his fists onto the tiles of his shower. For a moment he saw blood pooling in his fists, the way that it tended to rest when he washed himself off from returning from a job.

This couldn’t last. He wouldn’t let it. 

*

“My father was killed in prison.” Neil said, looking out to the sunrise as it blessed the easterly planes of New York City’s sky-rises. “So why the fuck does his ghost still haunt me?”

Andrew took a drag of his smoke. “Attempting to control your own mind will result in you running in circles.” 

“I wanted him dead for so long.” He muttered. “But now that he is, I don’t know what to do with myself.” 

Andrew could understand that. When Aaron bashed Drake’s skull in, when Andrew strangled Proust, it was a moment of clarity: He would forever be free from the horrors they brought with them. 

But with their departure came an open space, ready to be occupied by the next man who would try and take advantage of Andrew’s vulnerabilities. 

“I killed the man who abused me whilst I was in rehab. I’m subconsciously waiting for someone to come and take his place, like it’s a job opening.” He flicked his cigarette butt over the railing. “There’s no reason why we think and behave the way we do. It’s just ingrained into us.”

He could feel Neil looking at him, gaze drilling into his cheek. He turned his head slowly, meeting Neil’s gaze. 

It wasn’t pity. Or fear. It was just pure, unadulterated understanding. 

The weight pressing onto Andrew’s chest eased, just a little bit. 

*

Andrew was growing hedgier. Kevin and Thea’s wedding was fast approaching, and the needless press and public appearances had his head spinning. He wasn’t even the one being interviewed. 

He was still no closer to figuring out who’d been in their apartment, and _how,_ but Andrew would sleep with one eye open until he’d resolved this mess. He was sure someone was on their tail. Betsy insisted he was being overly paranoid, and demonstrated it was proof that he take some form of break from watching over Kevin, but it wasn’t like Andrew could up and leave. He’d come back and Kevin would be half-pulled into a drain with both of his hands run over by military tanks. 

He worked grooves into the carpets. He’d set up cameras around the flat and building that only he had access to and controlled all the access points. It didn’t make him sleep any easier. He wanted to move houses. Kevin thought he was crazy. 

Andrew _knew_ he wasn’t crazy. He was perceptive, not crazy. 

So, whilst he was pissed off about it, he wasn’t surprised when he got the call.

“ _You’re going to keep Day in his apartment. You’re not going to call the police. Do as I say and no one gets hurt.”_

Andrew ground his teeth. There was only one party who could be responsible for this, and where the Moriyamas were involved, someone _always_ got hurt. 

Andrew kept Kevin in his room, walking out onto the balcony. With the three-foot gap between their railings, it was easy to chuck a pen around the corner to Neil’s sliding doors. 

The man appeared, bemused and probably tired from a long Friday evening. “Andrew?”

Andrew hated him. Hated the quick to his eyebrows that Andrew noticed when Neil looked at him. “Look after Day. I’m going to hideout for this freaky fucking stalker.”

Neil blinked. “Did I miss something?”

“Weird shit around the place.” Andrew said dismissively. “Always.“ 

“You’re going to have provide me some context, Minyard.” Neil challenged, crossing his arms. 

Andrew grit his teeth and looked at the man. Why he trusted Neil was beyond him. He was still not sick of Neil’s inquisitive gaze: He wasn’t bored by his careful questions. Neil had traded quiet truths about hating his work and predispositions set by his family over cigarettes and mugs of coffee. Andrew knew he liked fruit and going for jogs and Exy. Neil, in return, knew Andrew had an awful sweet-tooth, a deliberating fear of heights, knife sheaths in his armbands, and that Andrew had gone to prison when he was younger.

Small, banal things, shared like golden artefacts between hesitant hands. 

And yeah, the sexual attraction had been foremost and obvious, but it had dulled into something else. Something Andrew didn’t really understand. He wanted to kiss the slight frown off his lips and see if his curls would really fall through his fingers like he dreamed they would. 

_No,_ he thought. That was not a productive line of thinking. 

“Kevin is in danger.” He said lowly. “Keep him in your flat. Watch over him.”

Neil nodded. 

“Give me your number.” 

“This isn’t how I imagined you asking me for my details, but I’ll take what I’ll get.” Neil grinned softly. 

Andrew knew his ears were going red for _no goddamned reason._ He simply served Neil a flat glare and left him standing on the balcony. 

“Climb from our balcony to Neil’s. You’ll hide in there until this blows over.” Andrew said, re-tying his shoelaces and checking his knives were in their sheaths. 

Kevin sent him a startled look. “Who’s Neil?”

Andrew ground his teeth. “Next door neighbour.” 

“Thea -” 

“I’ll text her. Leave your phone with me: They could be tracking it.”

He supervised Kevin clambering across between the two railings with a slight race to his heart rate. Neil knew and understood, putting out his hands. 

“It’ll be alright.” Neil said quietly. “I’ve got him. Go do what you need to do.”

Andrew nodded. He supposed thanks would be in order, but he wasn’t a thankful guy, and Neil didn’t strike him as someone who needed verbal cues to understand. 

He crouched on the inside of Kevin’s room, right by the door with a knife at the ready. 

Sure enough, heavy footsteps echoed around the apartment. Andrew held his breath, taking out his phone. 

_new message to: neil_

_someone’s in the apartment._

_from: neil_

_where are you?_

_to: neil_

_in kevin’s room. waiting for them to come in so i can subdue them._

_from: neil_

_i could take kevin away whilst they’re in the apartment. they wont be keeping an eye on cameras and i’ll disguise kevin to avoid any backup around place._

Andrew frowned.

_to: neil_

_and if you’re attacked?_

_from: neil_

_i know you’ve seen the scars. i’m more well versed with this kind of stuff than you think._

Andrew pursed his lips. Neil’s multi-faceted nature had him going in circles, time and time again. He was unsolvable. Having Kevin out of the building would be optimal, but it would require Andrew placing a hell of a lot of trust in Neil. Trust he wouldn’t allow on anyone other than himself. 

_to: neil_

_you’d better make sure he stays in one piece._

_from: neil_

_on it._

Andrew breathed a little easier, pocketing his phone. 

The footsteps continued. He heard his bedroom door be tested: The attacker obviously tried to pick his lock and was unable to. It was an electronic deadbolt that Andrew could control from the outside on the one and only remote. 

Andrew took a deep breath and stood at the ready. 

The footsteps didn’t even approach Kevin’s bedroom, turning away immediately and continuing back to the living room. 

Odd. They surely would check the room of their desired victim to see if he was there. After a few moments of quiet, Andrew slowly unlocked the door. Element of surprise be damned: He’d fucking get this person if it was the last thing he did. He had a promise to Kevin. He’d fulfill it. 

There was no one there. They must have slipped out of the front door, silently, as Andrew slipped out of Kevin’s room. Andrew lowered his knife and grit his teeth. What was this fucker’s game? 

He pulled out his phone. Neil had texted him. 

_from: neil_

_nothing encountered on the way to the garage. driving now. will text you when secure._

He didn’t want to text Neil to tell him to come back if that was what the assailant was waiting for. Instead, he rummaged for Kevin’s phone and made a call. 

“Hello?” Jean’s voice was familiar. He hadn’t escaped the Moriyamas for years after Kevin had, being inducted into the main branch after Ichirou murdered Riko. He’d worked out of his debt, becoming a coveted Exy star in southern California. Andrew hadn’t spoken to him in years, but it was the only man who’d been exposed to the inner working of the Moriyamas. 

“Someone is trying to kill Kevin. What do you know?”

“I haven’t been involved in you-know-who’s business in years, Andrew.” Jean countered. 

“You still know more than we do.” Andrew countered. “Why now?”

Jean was quiet for a moment. It sounded like he was getting out of bed, walking into an adjacent room. His voice was low, the French accent pronounced when he talked this fast. 

“Kengo is dying. Illness that they just can’t resolve. Ichirou would be eliminating any loose ends in anticipation of the change-over.”

Andrew grit his teeth. “Who would he send?”

“I can only think of one man.” Jean mused. “He has a highly trained assassin who takes care of such public and convoluted matters. I met him once and it was enough. That was after years of working with the main family.”

Andrew waited for Jean to continue. It took Jean a moment. 

“Nathaniel Wesninski, is his name.” He said, voice so quiet it was difficult to hear. “Kengo’s Butcher had a son, who became Ichirou’s most powerful weapon.”

“What does he look like?”

“He’s unmissable, really. Not great for an assassin. Short, red curls, blue eyes. He always wears clothes to cover the markings left by his father, but his scars are truly awful. Some are even visible through shirts pale or tight enough.”

Andrew’s stomach bottomed out. He hung up on Jean and closed his eyes. 

_Fuck._

He couldn’t tell Neil he knew who he was. He had to find them before Neil could slit Kevin’s throat and dispose of his body so thoroughly that he’d never be found again. Andrew had made an enormous mistake in trusting that man: It was the least he could do to get Kevin out of his own mistakes. 

_to: neil_

_still driving?_

_from: neil_

_secure now. got the guy?_

Andrew shook his head. 

_to: neil_

_yeah. police are coming now. i’m on my way._

_from: neil_

_right. good. see you soon._

Andrew needed to find out where this signal was coming from and fast. He was running against a clock that had ticked into over-time eons ago. In the midst of uploading the IP address into a program on his laptop, his phone began ringing. 

Renee. 

“Why is Jean telling me to keep an eye on you, Andrew? What have you done?”

Andrew ground his teeth together. His jaw ached with the tension in his neck. “I may or may not have let Kevin go galavanting off with an assassin charged to kill him. I’m working on it.”

“Oh, good lord.” Renee murmured. “I’m - nowhere near you. How can I help?”

“I’ll handle it.” He insisted. 

He heard Renee’s sad smile over the phone-line and wished she were here to spar with him. He really needed to punch something. “Whoever claims you’re heartless is a jealous liar. Call me soon, alright? Be careful.”

He hung up on her. He didn’t need her self-love preaching bullshit. He needed to concentrate. 

A signal rung out from fifteen minutes ago, pinging a tower in the industrial sector of upper New York. It was too close to the rich estates of business tycoons that Andrew _knew_ housed the Moriyamas for his liking, so he collected his coat and car keys. 

His phone began to ring. _neil_ flashed across the top of his screen and he gripped the phone, anger rippling across his skin in hot flashes. 

He hated being taken advantage of. This was _exactly_ why trust never came easily to him, and he should have fucking known better. 

He answered the phone and grit out “You’d better have a good explanation for this, Wesninski.”

“Andrew,” Kevin breathed. “It’s me. It’s me. I’m fine. I’m alive.”

Andrew covered his eyes with his hand. “Where are you? What’s happening?”

“Neil drove me to this warehouse and cuffed me to a pipe in the corner before I could fight him. Then he looked at me for like five minutes, yelled fuck at the top of his voice and threw a tarp over me and told me not to move or he’d shoot me. I heard voices and cars and gunshots: When everything was quiet I threw the tarp off. Neil is gone, but a bunch of men are bleeding out here. Moriyama men. They’ve got M’s on their knuckles, I - I think Neil’s gone rogue or something.” 

Andrew let out a muffled sigh of relief. “Stay where you are. Hide under the tarp. I’m coming.”

*

Kevin and Thea sat to Andrew’s right. They all perched on the edge of the couch, watching the news. 

“Business man Kengo Moriyama died this morning before police could glean a statement regarding his son’s involvement in the mass shooting at a Moriyama leased warehouse on the outskirts of New York City two months ago. FBI’s Chief Wymack and his team have found evidence of premeditated murders at Ichirou’s hand, including that of the supposed suicide of his brother Riko Moriyama approximately seven years ago. Encrypted video evidence has been provided from anonymous sources that police refuse to disclose. Ichirou Moriyama and many of his closest affiliates are in custody, charged with extortion, theft, tax-evasion and money laundering, involvement in trafficking circles and many cold homicide and disappearance cases.

More has been uncovered about the Moriyama business, including that of Nathan Wesninski’s true identity as Baltimore’s infamous serial killer, the Butcher, with evidence showing that Wesninski and Moriyama were heavily involved business partners…”

“Turn this shit off.” Thea muttered, nudging Kevin’s shoulder. 

Kevin sighed, rubbing his eye. “I just can’t believe they’ve been so neatly backed into a corner. I never thought they’d be successfully prosecuted.”

“There’s no way they’re getting out of this, now.” Thea reminisced. “Someone pretty close to Ichirou must have turned over a new leaf.” 

Andrew said nothing, keeping his hands clasped together over his mouth. 

Kevin looked at him and sighed. Andrew still hadn’t forgiven himself over the Neil/Nathaniel mess and anything to do with the Moriyamas lured him into a quiet, volatile state of mind. “I’ll get Indian takeout.” 

Thea answered the door forty minutes later, and a familiar voice echoed from the hallway. Andrew was on his feet in an instant. 

Neil looked a little sheepish. There was an enormous scar curving from his eye down to his jaw and burns covering his other cheek in a careless pattern. He held out the food.

“Beef and chicken korma?” 

“What the fuck do you want?” Andrew asked, brandishing his knife. Thea looked between them, baffled. “Did you kill the take out guy?”

Neil shrugged. “I’ve been granted immunity by the FBI. Only took six weeks and needless wading through bureaucracy, but I’m free now. And no, I didn’t kill the take out guy.”

“I’m going to leave,” Thea murmured, taking the take-out from Neil’s hands and shuffling further inside. 

“Why are you here?” Andrew stepped closer, holding the knife closer to Neil’s throat. “You should have known better than to show your face after everything.”

Neil put up his hands. “I know. But I didn’t actually kill him, did I?”

“Congratulations.” Andrew snapped, sour. “Would you like a fucking sticker? A certificate?”

Neil’s lips quirked into a sad smile. “I grew too attached. The idea of hurting him - or you - was intolerable. I’m a terrible assassin, I know. I just wanted to make sure you’re all okay. I’m sure I’ve helped the FBI lock up all the potential Moriyama trouble-makers, but I’m forever paranoid.”

Andrew looked at him.

He shrugged awkwardly. “Seems like you’re fine. I’d best get going.”

He turned around and took a few steps towards the elevator. 

“Wesninski,” Andrew called, against his better judgment. 

Neil winced. “I changed my name. Legally. It’s Neil Josten, now.” 

“Josten.” He amended. “Come in for dinner.”

Neil looked at him, unsure. “Kevin won’t shit himself?”

Andrew shrugged. “It’ll be amusing.” 

Neil looked at his feet before letting himself smile, just a little bit. Andrew _still_ wanted to kiss it off his lips. 

“Make the wrong move and I’ll kill you.” Andrew murmured into Neil’s ear as he stepped through the threshold of Andrew’s apartment. 

“Undoubtedly.” Neil said easily. “I’d let you.”

“Idiot.” Andrew growled. 

The glitter returned to Josten’s eye, and Andrew decided then and there: It was a terrible decision, and Josten was a terrible man, but their jagged edges fit together without unsure gaps and abrasive overlaps. 

“Did I read your cues wrong, or do you actually want to kiss me? Because I can understand why you’d be a little conflicted, and I was never sure if I was projecting my own confusion and doubt onto you and hoping you felt the same -”

Andrew shoved a kiss against the corner of Neil’s lips, pulling back just as quickly as he’d leaned forward and surveying Neil’s old t-shirt and ratty jeans with distaste. “You truly are bad at your job.”

Neil grinned. 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like thea tbh

**Author's Note:**

> i hope yall like it! i love assassin au's


End file.
